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It might be best if I leave St. Valentine’s Day alone. Not that I am bitter, my no. True, there were many that I spent single in NYC, some while waiting tables on couples that were frankly a little too eager to have the perfect evening. Even as a child in chilly Mid-western classrooms, I wasn’t the one that would receive valentines, although I would collect those candy hearts and make up stories in my head. 

Actually one of the best memories I have for this particular holiday is that of me marching (literally) across midtown Manhattan during a blizzard to Tiffany’s. Yes, you read right. What I thought I would find there I didn’t know. My funds were quite feeble. And yet Tiffany’s never disappoints. 

As someone who has spent her fair time at the altar of Audrey Hepburn, I should probably blush at the obvious reference but I certainly didn’t then. Like Holly GoLightly, I would often stroll around the quiet of the store when well enough dressed to do so, just to peer into the cases and feel the curious glances of the salesclerks from behind their upholstered perches.

I actually did find something that day. An Elsa Peretti pendant on the thinnest silver chain. A square rectangle with an indent the size of a thumb print. One that I would later pass over and over again like a rosary to keep my courage high. I couldn’t really afford it but then again, I couldn’t really afford not to. Not on that day.

Not all of us fit in to just the right places at just the right time. I felt that also while walking around Sisteron not long ago. What is appreciated, what is put by the wayside? As I mentioned recently, Remi and I spent a few days in the northern Luberon with Sisteron as our base. The town is for many just the first break of sunshine after a long journey from the North. It surprised me to see that so little of its Centre Historique had been renovated and yet how incredible to see the swaths of time untouched.

There is beauty all around us. Sometimes someone sees it and appreciates it for what it is, whether it is perfect or no. Today, I am sending out my best to the single women and men who happen to read this blog. I can never begin to understand the timing of the world and yet today is just a holiday. Celebrate it as you see fit.

As for me, well Remi and I did find each other, both of us carrying all of the patina of the last door. It is never easy nor a fairy tale. I am grateful for him and Ben and the rest of my family everyday. And not just on St. Valentine’s. 

Love is love.

I am not a photographer. I know this because I saw something of a terrible beauty tonight and yet I could not lift my camera from around my neck.

As some of you might be painfully aware, Europe has been hit with a cold snap. One that neither humans nor nature knows on a regular basis in this corner of Provence. Tonight, Remi wanted to take a drive in the Camargue, the immense swampy region and regional park to the south of Arles. It is austere under the best of conditions, I would have thought that we would be alone, as the temperatures had taken a dive to -12°C and yet no. The tiny back roads surrounding the Etang de Vaccares were as full as a Sunday in July, save that nearly every car had pulled over to take a photo of the frozen water (either an enormous pond or small lake depending on your opinion) as it was the first time that it had been frozen over since 1985. 

I wish that the ice, stopped as waves lining the shore, was the only issue. However, we spoke to a park ranger who had collected in the trunk of his car ten flamant roses or flamingos that had frozen. While we spoke, one flew over my head and perched nearby in a tiny pool where the ice had not yet taken its hold. My empathy got caught in my throat.

In parting we saw a flutter of pink at the side of the swamps. A flamingo wing. It was perfect in its shape and color, glowing against the faded background of the winter reeds. A supremely delicate contrast. And yet I couldn’t capture it, too saddened by all we can’t control and how little most of us do to protect our planet when we can…

Ah, the decorating domino effect. We really have been careful about what we bring into this new apartment as we already have too much of muchness, especially as far as art is concerned. But when I found this Gobelins tapestry for, I’ll admit it, 15 Euros (since several of you have asked), I couldn’t resist. As it is gigantic, there was only one place for it that really worked, above the fireplace in the bedroom. We still haven’t had the moment to gallery hang it but are thrilled with the peace that it brings. Similarly, I am loving the soft light emanating from the mercury mirror that has now by default been shifted to the living room. Win, win.

Speaking of winning, I was recently given two awards for Lost in Arles. Hooray! The incredible Karin, a veritable one-woman walking Wiki of good taste, was kind enough to give me the Blog on Fire Award in January. Do you know her blog, La Pouyette? To give you an idea, she recently constructed an imaginary dinner party for 12. Her invitées included Frederick the Great, Karl Lagerfeld and Oscar Wilde. Impeccable. Merci, Karin!

As part of accepting this award, I need to tell you five things about myself that you may not know:

1) When I am as homesick for the States as I am right now, I admit that given the opportunity to have either an authentic Sunday Brunch or a menu degustation at a Michelin-starred restaurant, I would, without hesitation, chose the brunch. Tragically, I would probably also pick peanut butter over foie gras. 

2) I have a built-in radar that can hear a champagne cork popping within a five-mile radius. 

3) I once sang “Summertime” for a tribe on Tanna Island in Vanuatu in the Pacific to thank them for performing a dance for me.

4) Secret talent: Killer yoga toes.

5) To my shame? I have the worst memory for faces of anyone I know. Not such a big deal while living in Manhattan when the chances of running into someone you know are slim but in a small town like Arles? Very, very embarrassing. 

Natalie Rapoport lives in Toronto but is a world-traveller who loves to share those special moments, les petites bijoux, that we come across as we go. Hence her charming blog, Jewel yet to find. I love her patient eye and her attention to detail so was very excited when she decided to send me the Liebster Blog Award. Wow! Thank you so much, Natalie.

Something wonderful that both of these awards have in common is that they are in recognition of blogs with under 200 followers. So I am happy to pass on the baton to five of my favorite small blogs and am awarding them BOTH the Blog on Fire Award and the Liebster Blog Award. 

1) I dream of. With such a title, I knew that I would be hooked but Jeanne’s blog has instantly become one of my favorites. Why? She has so much heart, as corny as that sounds, not to mention oodles of talent. I am predicting here that she will become a darling of the design blog world.

2) Looking Glass. Clare is a classic beauty, a model and an actress but that is where the classicism stops. She always has surprises up her sleeve, including a very frank series where she interviewed burlesque performers. Have to love that Aussie mix. 

3) Shifting Gears. Judith Ross is an accomplished writer whose intelligence and authenticity never cease to inspire me. This blog is dedicated towards “navigating middle age and beyond” and she does so with a light hand. 

4) oh-fancy that. Four really funny and fabulous ladies that have an amazing take on DIY, fashion, food (a favorite post is the recipe for pecan, bourbon and butterscotch bread pudding). Just read their “About Us” and try and not be addicted. For sure they will be wondering “An award from who?” but I love your blog!

5) Concrete Jungle. Heather doesn’t post all the time but I never know from what part of the world she will when she does. Girl gets around. An interior designer based mainly out of Thailand, she puts her trained eye to good use, no detail is too small. To boot, she has formed a great charity to help out at home.

There are few other blogs that were awarded at the same time I was otherwise, they would be on this list and are well worth the gander:

and Helen Tilston Painter, who, I am assuming has already been given both of these awards…

We stopped the car, realizing that we were, well, if not lost than entirely on the wrong road. As I got out to stretch my legs, I sucked in my breath from the cold and the sight of a liquid cloud, spread across the sky like an ink stain. “It is snowing in there,” I thought to myself with pleasure, imagining all the things in nature that we don’t see but are right there in front of us.

Once safely on the other side of the mountain, we stopped in a field outside of a small village. Neither the field nor the village had yet awoken from the night before. Frost glistened and dew dropped from winter berries and their pom-pom fronds.

Remi and I had spoken the day before about my timidity in photographing people so when we both saw this Citroen 2CV battling down the lane, he pushed me to flag it down.

Hooray! Just a bit of fun. Last night Remi and I were skulking around an especially unpromising Depot-Vente or junk shop in the suburbs of Arles. Each went their separate ways, only half-heartedly in the hunt. And yet, what did I spy tucked behind a bulky dresser? A bit of tapestry. Yes, I know, tapestry can be so old-fashioned as to be sad.  But no, this one is so perfectly faded that its remaining colors only give the tiniest suggestion of what it once was. I called Remi over and with a heave he extracted it from its dusty realm. And as you can see, we swooped it up. For a song. A mere pittance. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.

Especially as when we got it home I spied a label on the back frame: “Panneaux Gobelins”. 

It is so long, 2.2 meters that I am not sure where we can put it, but trust me, I will find a place. Aren’t such gifts from the world encouraging?